The Fabric of His Life
by InfinityStar
Summary: A threat from the past threatens to unravel the life Bobby is trying to build with his new family. Sequel to Bridges to the Heart.
1. Ask Me Again

**A/N: This is a sequel to the story Bridges to the Heart. This first chapter was actually written for one of the challenges over on the USA Board. The prompt was "Don't look at me like that." Enjoy!  
**

* * *

Bobby let himself into the house, exhausted and frustrated after a very long day. It did not surprise him that Barb had already gone to bed. The house was dark, which meant Brian had retired for the night, too. The young man had started another round of chemo, and he was probably feeling run down. He grabbed the mail Barb had left for him off the hall table and looked around for Storm. Deciding she was most likely in the bedroom with Barb, he started up the stairs, undoing his tie.

Instead of going into the bedroom and disturbing Barb, he continued down the hall to his study. Pulling the door shut, he released it before it fully closed. True to her word, Barb never bothered him when the door was closed. She was such a patient, understanding woman. When life began to get out of hand for him and he could feel control sliding from his grasp, somehow, she steadied him. She brought calm to his troubled soul, and he wondered, more and more, how he had ever managed without her.

He dropped the small stack of envelopes onto the desk, walking to the liquor cabinet in the far corner. He filled a tumbler with scotch and returned to sit at the desk, retrieving an envelope that was about the size of a greeting card. Although it was addressed to him, there was no return address. He turned it over to open it, but he was interrupted by a knock as the door opened and Brian poked his head in. "Hey, am I bothering you?"

"Not at all." Bobby dropped the letter on the desk, unopened. "Come on in."

"I thought I heard you in the hall and I saw the light..." He sat in a nearby chair. "Busy day?"

"Very. And long. How was your treatment today?"

Brian grinned. "I may be getting used to this chemo crap. I wasn't as sick today or as wiped out. I was just watching TV with Marcus when I heard you."

Bobby returned the smile. "Oh? And what does Marcus like to watch?"

"Believe it or not, I found a marathon rerun of the old sixties _Batman _series."

"I remember watching that as a kid. Somehow, it was a lot more exciting when I was six." He looked at the time. "Eleven-fifty-five. I guess it's close enough to midnight..."

He opened one of the drawers of his desk and removed a small wrapped package, which he handed to Brian. "Happy birthday, Brian."

Bobby knew that Barb had gotten Brian a video game system and he'd pitched in a couple of games, but he wanted to give the young man something special, something Barb knew nothing about. Although he loved doing things that surprised her, he found himself increasingly likely to share even the most mundane things with her. The more he let Barb in, past his carefully erected defenses, the closer he wanted her to be.

Brian opened the present and gasped when he flipped up the lid of the box that was under the gold foil. Nestled within the box was a gold pen. Brian looked at Bobby, who gave him a shy grin. "I noticed...the notebook you carry around. You like to write, so I gave you something that will make writing seem...uh, I don't know...more..."

He knew the word he wanted--sensual--but he wasn't comfortable comparing the smooth stroke of the pen and the even flow of the ink with something that brought sex to mind, not with Brian, anyway.

"Fun?" Brian offered.

Bobby offered a half grin. "Okay, we'll go with that."

He knew that Brian had never written with such a pen, and once he did, he'd have trouble writing with anything else. He had a similar pen tucked into the pocket of his jacket. It was about ten years old and he'd had a lot of trouble forcing himself to use any other pen. Maybe it was ridiculous, but he loved the way the instrument... performed. A silent chuckle rumbled through his brain as he returned his attention to Barb's son, who was examining the pen with wonder. "However it writes, it's beautiful. Thank you, Bobby."

"You're welcome." He leaned back in his chair and took a drink. "Did your mom go with you this morning?"

"Yeah. Gram watched the baby. Mom always goes with me," he said with a laugh. "But that's okay. She takes comfort in talking to the docs and taking care of me."

"What are they saying now?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." He scooted his chair closer to the big detective. "Every scan they do shows that more and more of the cancer has receded. The last MRI they did of my noggin showed no trace of the cancer, and my kidneys are clear, too. My kidney functions are almost back to normal. The tumors are almost gone from my spine and my liver. The problem—because there always has to be a damn problem—is south of the border. My right testicle is clean. The left one, though...there's the problem. Not only has the cancer taken up permanent residence there, but it's calcified the tissue. They scheduled me for surgery early next week to get it removed. If they don't take it out, when this round of chemo is over, or maybe the next one, that damn thing is going to let loose and then I won't make it another two months. So, as part of the master plan to save my life and help me at least make it to Emmie's first day of kindergarten, they have to remove my left nut. Mom...well, she understands a lot, but face it...she's not a guy and she doesn't quite get that I'm kind of attached to the twins. To lose one...well, it doesn't sit well."

"What did she say?"

"Something along the lines of 'If that's what they have to do...' You know how she is in clinical mode. I don't think the 'mother' part of her has dealt with it yet."

"It's a defense mechanism, her clinical mode. She hides behind her training when the emotions run too high. She, uh, compartmentalizes, so she can handle things. She leaves the dealing for later."

"Yeah. Remember I told you I broke my arm sliding into home when I was little?"

"The winning run of a championship game."

"That's the one. It took her three days to deal with that one. This one needs a little more than a band-aid or a cast. "

"Were they able to address this in terms of what it will mean for your survival?"

"That's always the first order of business. The most they'll commit to is that maybe, with this surgery, I'll welcome Emmie home on her last day of kindergarten."

"That's nine months they weren't willing to give you before."

"Every little bit is a good thing, isn't it?"

"Of course it is."

"What would you do, Bobby?"

"I'd tell them to take it."

"I thought you'd say that. But still...I'll only be half a man..."

Bobby shook his head adamantly, silencing Brian with a wave of one hand as he rested the other on the young man's arm. "Please, Brian...never thing of yourself like that. This won't diminish the man you are. Not at all."

Brian laughed. "Funny thing is...Mom's second question was if I'd still be able to father children. Hell, I don't have it in me to _date _right now. How could I, in good conscience, bring a kid into the world, knowing I wouldn't be around to raise him?"

Bobby turned his head to look out the window for a moment. Finally, he looked back at Brian. "That is entirely up to you, Brian. But, whatever you decide, I hope you know that you always have us."

Brian smiled. "I know. Thanks, Bobby."

"When are you scheduled?"

"Tuesday."

Bobby nodded and Brian got to his feet. He held up the case containing the pen that would quickly become a treasured possession. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Try to get some sleep."

"You, too. Good night."

Bobby picked up his glass and leaned back in his seat. Taking a drink, he looked toward the ceiling. _Half a man._ After all Brian had been through, after handling his illness, and everything else, with such dignity, there was nothing that could come up that would ever take that away from him. He was more of a man than most of the men Bobby knew.

Another soft knock on at the partially open door drew him from his thoughts. He turned his head in that direction as Barb poked her head into the room. "Busy?"

He smiled and set the glass on the desk, sitting up. "I'm never too busy for you."

"The biggest challenge of my day was getting out of that bedroom without the cat," she said as she approached him. "I think she senses that you're home."

"How did you know I was home?"

"I actually came out to check on Brian because I heard his door. I thought he might be sick or something. I saw the study light on, so I knew you were here."

"I...needed to unwind a little."

She sifted her fingers through his dark hair. "Long day?"

"Very," he replied, sliding an arm around her and resting his head against her. "How is Emily?"

"She's fine," she assured him. "If I didn't know any better, I would say she spends almost as much time looking for you when you're gone as Storm does."

He laughed softly and snuggled against the soft fabric of her nightshirt. "Hard day?"

"Parts of it."

"I talked to Brian."

"Then he told you about the surgery."

"Yes. Do you want me to take Tuesday off?"

"You're in the middle of a case."

He shrugged. "Eames can get along for a day, Barb. Brian is family. I can take the day off."

She rested her cheek against his head. "I'll leave it up to you."

"I'll talk to Eames and Deakins in the morning."

Leaning over, she kissed him. "Ray and Elsie are coming to dinner tomorrow..." She glanced at the clock. "Er, tonight, for Brian's birthday."

He trailed his finger along her jaw. "I'll try to make it home early."

Her reply was silenced when he drew her in for another kiss. With a smile she stepped back away from him, gently pulling on his hand. "Come to bed," she invited.

Finishing off the contents of his glass, he got up from his chair. He needed no second invitation from her.

* * *

Barb snuggled into Bobby's side, running the tip of her finger over his chest, which was covered in a light sheen of sweat. He sighed softly and shuddered under the light caress. He shuddered again when she nipped his earlobe. "Can I ask you something?" she asked, the whisper of her breath tickling his ear and drawing him further from sleep.

"Go ahead," he answered as Storm ventured from the pillow to sit on his chest and chase Barb's hand.

Although she was almost full-grown, Storm was still very small. She pounced on Barb's hand, wrapping her legs around her wrist and fingers. Absently playing with the active little cat, Barb said, "You've stopped asking me to marry you. Have you lost interest?"

He arched his eyebrows and looked at her. "What would make you ask that?"

"When you periodically asked, I knew you were still interested," she answered.

"And now you're not sure? I'm definitely not doing something right."

She smiled. "Occasionally, I used to get annoyed when you kept asking."

"I know. That's why I stopped."

"Well, after you stopped, I suddenly felt there was a void, that something was missing. I didn't realize I would miss it until you stopped asking."

He was quiet for a moment. "Do you do this to confuse me?"

She began to laugh, and his irritation faded in the wake of the sweet sound of her laughter. She shifted her position and eased her torso onto his chest. He chased Storm to the floor and gave Barb his full attention. She teased his lips with gentle kisses and he ran his fingers lightly from her shoulders to the sheet that gathered at her waist and back. "Ask me again," she urged, her voice almost a purr as it rumbled through her chest.

He'd never heard that deep, seductive tone from her before, and it coursed through his body like a sonic boom. His muscles trembled and he swallowed hard. One hand rested flat against her waist as the other strayed of its own accord, seeking out the areas of her body that he knew were most sensitive to his touch. There was a game she loved to play, one that teased and tormented him. She enjoyed trying to hide her reactions from him when he was playful, making him work to draw them out. He found that stroking those sensitive areas was the only true indication to him of her level of arousal, and it always ended the game. She could hide herself well, right up until that point. He knew it was intentional, and it always drove his own desire up a few more notches.

He loved her body, and exploring it was a challenge he relished. It had taken time and effort for him to find each spot, and he loved using that knowledge to his own advantage every chance he got. He knew where to go when he wanted to start slow, and he knew how to jump start her when he didn't want to wait. He also found certain areas useful when he needed help with persuasion and others were most effective when he got himself into trouble. She got irritated that he used her own body against her, but it never lasted long, and she always forgave him.

It wasn't like it was a one way street, either. She took full advantage of his own weaknesses every time she felt the need. He could never stay mad at her for any length of time, even if he tried. She was able to lift his mood and drive away his melancholy with relative ease, so if he felt the need to dwell on dark thoughts for awhile, he retreated to his study. He quickly learned that not coming home was no longer an option, and he rarely ever felt the need to stay away.

She played with his ear and he turned his head to kiss her. She allowed him to stall, teasing his lips with the tip of her tongue. He drew her tongue into his mouth and she groaned, which effectively sent his head reeling. As she slid her body along his, he turned toward her. She withdrew a little way to look at his face. When she spoke, she sounded breathless, which he considered sexy as hell. She whispered, "Ask me."

It took a moment for his distracted brain to process the request, but once it clicked, he asked, "Barb, will you marry me?"

She caught him in another deep kiss before whispering her answer into his mouth. "Yes."

For so long, she had told him it wasn't the right time, or she wasn't ready, or she didn't think he was ready. Since he expected another answer to put it off for an undefined later time, he didn't pay full attention, settling himself to brush off his disappointment with physical exertion as he tended to do.

In mid-kiss, he stopped and pulled back from her. "You...uh, what-what did you say?"

"I said yes."

He sat up slowly, stunned and unable to process the answer he did not expect to receive. "Yes..." he repeated. "You said...yes."

"Is that a problem, Bobby?" she asked, her tone now amused.

Her light tone annoyed him and his face was serious. "When?"

She was caught offguard by his urgency. "When...? Well, it'll take a few months to plan..."

"No, not months. Weeks...days...I've waited too long for this, Barb. We don't need a big wedding like Alex had. I don't want one of those." He stopped, catching himself. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and looked at the floor. "I'm sorry. If you want a big wedding...well, whatever you want. Plan it your way. I'll go with whatever you plan. I just...I don't want to wait."

Reaching out, she rubbed his back. "You're afraid I'll change my mind."

He moistened his lips. "Sometimes, fear isn't rational."

"And I don't have the greatest track record with you. I understand that. A small wedding is fine. We don't need more. Give me the time I need to plan it. Elsie and Alex will help me." She reached over and kissed the back of his neck. Before she could say anything, though, the baby's cries came over the monitor on the dresser. "I'll be back," she promised, getting out of the bed and pulling on her robe.

Storm came into Bobby's line of vision as he continued to stare at the floor. "Don't look at me like that," he cajoled her. "If we wait too long, it'll never happen."

She mewed at him and he smiled. Reaching down, he lifted her from the floor as he laid back against his pillows, depositing her in the center of his chest. "Go to sleep, furball."

When Barb returned to the bedroom, both Bobby and the kitten were sleeping, and Storm was curled up under his chin, as close to him as she could possibly get. "Silly little cat," she said with a chuckle as she slid in beside them and snuggled up to Bobby's side. Draping her arm over his stomach, she quickly went to sleep.


	2. A Veiled Threat

**A/N: While it was initially a good idea, I have decided that using Nicole as the villain in this story was a dead end for me. So I decided to continue a thread from Bridges to the Heart and bring back Don Carlo. I think it will create a better story.**

* * *

Bobby woke before the alarm, as he usually did. As soon as she sensed he was awake, Storm uncurled herself from a furry little ball on his pillow and mewed, licking his ear. He pulled her onto his chest and whispered good morning. Purring, she snuggled under his chin for a minute, then jumped off the bed and bounded into the closet.

Bobby rolled onto his side and kissed Barb softly before sliding out of the bed and crossing the room to the bathroom. After his shower, he put on a clean suit, but before donning his tie and jacket, he went down the hall to the baby's room. She was just beginning to stir.

He turned on the lamp on her dresser near the window and walked back to the crib. She was now wide awake. He smiled. "Good morning, precious," he said softly.

Her face broke into a smile and she waved her arms and kicked her feet. "Da," she cooed.

He picked her up and laid her on the changing table. As he changed her diaper and dressed her, he talked to her. She watched his face, smiling and listening to every word as he spoke. He gently rubbed her belly when she was dressed and she giggled. He smiled. "What was that?" he whispered.

He tickled her and she giggled again. With a soft laugh, he picked her up. "When did you start that?"

"Da," she answered.

She was almost four months old, and 'da' was the first distinct sound she'd made, followed by 'ba' and 'ga'. She had big brown eyes and her sparse dark hair softly curled where it was long enough. Bobby found that everything about his little daughter was soft and fascinating. His experience with babies was limited, and he wanted to do everything with her.

He carried Emily into the bedroom and sat on the bed, gently laying her beside her mother. Reaching over, he tickled Barb's side. "You have a visitor, sweetheart."

Barb stretched and turned toward him. She opened her eyes and smiled. "Morning already?"

"Almost. I have to get going."

She reached up and stroked his cheek. "Have a good day."

He leaned down to give her a soft, lingering kiss. "You still want to marry me?"

She laughed and lightly stroked his cheek. "I'll call Elsie after breakfast and we'll get planning. Have Alex call me at lunchtime."

Another quick kiss and he sat up. "Oh, listen to this."

As Barb turned onto her side, he made a noise at the baby and tickled her stomach. She giggled and squirmed. Delighted, Barb said, "She's laughing!"

She hugged Emily, and he kissed the side of her head and then the baby's. "I'll call you later."

He got up and grabbed his tie from the dresser, sliding it under his collar. Quickly tying it, he slipped his badge on his belt and put his wallet, knife and handkerchief into his pockets. Taking his jacket from the back of the chair he'd laid it on, he said, "Have a good day, girls."

"Be careful," Barb answered, blowing him a kiss.

He went down the hall to the study and removed his gun from the safe he'd gotten before Emily was born. Closing the door behind him, he headed downstairs and left the house.

* * *

The morning was as busy as the day before had been, and it was after one before Bobby and Alex took a break for lunch. They left the office and walked down the block away from the headquarters building. "Uh, Eames...I didn't have a chance to talk to you this morning. I...uh, I need to take Tuesday morning off."

"Is something wrong?"

"Brian...is having surgery."

That was not something she wanted to hear. "The cancer?"

"Yes."

She nodded her head. "It's fine, Bobby. Did you talk to Deakins?"

"Yes. He said the same thing. I should be in sometime in the afternoon."

"Don't worry about it. If you need the whole day, take it."

"We'll see how it goes."

She studied the sidewalk in front of her as they walked. "How is he doing overall?"

"Better than they expected. His five year prognosis is good."

"And after that?"

He shrugged. "No one knows." He was uncomfortable and needed to change the subject. "There's, uhm, there's something else."

She swallowed her apprehension. Bobby was not the most talkative person when it came to his personal life, and his willingness to talk now had her on edge. "Go on," she encouraged when he hesitated.

"Barb would like you to give her a call if you have a minute at lunch."

That could be good or bad. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine. Apparently, my decision to stop asking her to marry me...was the wrong one. She said she...missed my persistence and she was worried I'd lost interest."

"You set her straight, didn't you?"

He nodded. "She wanted me to ask her again...so I did...and...and she said yes."

Alex stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. He turned toward her after a few paces, confused. "What?"

"She finally said yes?" He nodded. "Did you set a date?"

"I didn't, no. If I did, we'd be getting married tomorrow. She said she needs a little time to plan...well, whatever she has to plan." He shrugged. "It's her wedding--whatever she wants to do."

Eames studied him. "It's your wedding, too, you know."

He gave that half a moment's thought. "For me, it's just a technicality. But it means something to her. There are only two words that matter to me, and as long as she says them, that's all that I care about, as far as the wedding goes. Everything else is...well, it's whatever she wants it to be. As long as she's happy, I am." He sighed softly. "But whatever she's planning, she'd like your help, if you don't mind."

"Mind?" She stepped up to him and pulled him into an embrace. He relaxed against her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Kissing his cheek, she stepped back. "I'm thrilled."

She pulled out her phone and dialed Barb's number. He lost his partner for the rest of lunch.

* * *

It was a late day. As much as he had always loved them in the past, he became impatient with them now. He stayed late when it was necessary, but never longer than he had to. He still loved his job; he loved his family more. Alex, in particular, was happy to see it. Barb was exactly what Bobby had always needed, and Alex loved her for it. Bobby still beat her in to the squad room, but these days he usually left when she did. More than anything else, though, Alex loved the change in him. He was no longer always exhausted, and he was happy. Her favorite thing to do lately was ask him about little Emily. She loved to see the glow on his face and the spark in his eyes, and there was a sense of awe in his tone when he talked about her. Emily fascinated him and she brought him a joy he had never known before. Alex had always known that, if he ever chose to have children, Bobby would be an excellent father. Even though it had not really been his choice to father a child at this point, he had, and he was the wonderful father Alex knew he would be.

The partners rode the elevator down together. "It's Friday night," he observed. "Any special plans?"

"Not really. You?"

"Uhm, we're having dinner with Ray and Elsie...for Brian's birthday. I...I'd like it...if you and Teddy could come over."

She smiled. "We'll be there."

He was surprised, but only for a moment. "Barb invited you."

"Yes, she did." She reached out to touch his shoulder. "She knows you can get distracted."

"Uh, yeah..."

"I can't wait to see that beautiful baby again."

"You saw her last week," he teased, smiling.

"A week is a long time to a baby...and to me."

He nodded as he pushed off the back wall of the elevator when the doors slid open. He walked her to her car. "I'll see you in a little while," he said.

"Drive carefully," she cautioned.

He looked at her over his shoulder, then grinned and continued to his car.

* * *

Bobby wasn't surprised to find the house in a flurry of activity when he got home. Storm heard the door first and came skittering around the corner from the living room to attack his pants. He leaned down and scooped her up, letting her climb onto his shoulder.

In the living room, he found Ray and Brian watching television and playing with the baby. He stopped to lean on the back of the couch and the baby squealed happily when she saw him. He placed a hand on Brian's shoulder and squeezed as he poked Emily's stomach, making her giggle. "Hi, Ray," he said, shaking the physician's hand.

"You look good, son. How is everything?"

"Fine, thanks."

Brian smiled at him and reached up to take Storm from his shoulder. "Mom's in the kitchen with Gram. This little monster got banned from the room when she tried to climb into the oven with the roast."

Bobby laughed and patted the soft kitten. He walked to the kitchen and stood in the doorway, watching, until Barb noticed him. Her face lit up and she smiled. "You made it home early," she said happily as she stood at the counter with Elsie, peeling potatoes.

"Wasn't that part of your plan when you talked to Alex?"

She shook a potato peeler at him. "That was a legitimate invitation. But I knew it wouldn't hurt if she knew."

He smiled and winked at Elsie as he stopped at the stove to examine the contents of the pots. "Well, we still managed to get everything done that we needed to do today, but Monday will be a long day." He stepped up behind Barb and slid his arms around her waist, kissing her neck. He took a deep breath and whispered in her ear, "You smell good." He kissed her neck again. "Dinner smells good, too," he murmured, drawing her more firmly against him.

She rested her head against his chest for a moment. "We almost had a roast kitten garnish."

"I heard." He kissed the side of her head and said, "I'm going to shower and change."

She nodded as he stepped away from her, kissed Elsie's cheek and walked toward the doorway. "Alex and Teddy will be here in about a half hour, and dinner will be ready in forty-five minutes."

She knew he had a tendency to get lost with his thoughts and, without a time frame, there was no predicting when he'd join them. After a moment, she sensed he had not left the kitchen, and she looked toward the doorway, where he stood watching them. "What's wrong?"

Shaking his head slowly, he smiled. "Not a thing."

* * *

After showering, he dressed in a pair of black jeans and a gray shirt. He looked at the clock. It was twenty after five. He walked down the hall to the study to lock his gun in the safe, and his eye caught the mail from the day before that was still sitting, unopened, on his desk.

He sat at the desk and picked up the card. Turning it over, he opened it and pulled out the card. On the front was a nursery scene, all in pink, with a cradle and a rocking horse dominating. 'On the birth of your baby girl...' read the salmon words across the top of the card. He opened it, and a folded piece of white note paper fell from the card, which was unsigned. Setting down the card, he opened the notepaper. A newspaper clipping was nestled in the fold. _Goren_, it read. _Baby girl, born to Robert and Barbara (nee Weaver)..._

Emily's birth announcement from the paper. He turned his attention to the notepaper. _My dear detective, __A little daughter for you and your beautiful lady. My congratulations. Daughters are such precious gems. No one can touch a man's heart, his soul, as a daughter can. Treasure her while you can. Remember, my good man, nothing is more important than family._

_Nothing is more important than family._ He could hear the voice that spoke those words to him, emerging from the fog of memory from the time he'd spent as a 'guest' of Carlo Gambisi. The note slipped from his hand as it shook. _No. No. No..._

He got to his feet and began to pace, his heart and his mind racing. He stopped in front of the open window and looked out into the garden. Barb's garden. The rose bushes were full of blooms and the garden was full of vegetables. The late summer sun was shining on the flower garden that ran along three sides of the yard. All of it was tended by Barb's loving hand and it thrived, just like he did.

He felt calmer, though his initial reaction to the letter had not faded. There was a house full of people downstairs...family. He couldn't withdraw from them, as was his tendency when things fell out of place. He wondered how well he could hide his restlessness from them.

Eames...he needed to talk to Eames. He looked at the clock. Quarter til. She'd be there any time. He would show her the letter, talk to her, and together, they would find some way to deal with the threat of Carlo Gambisi to set his life on its end. Somehow they would find a way to protect his family. There was a way because he would not accept any other alternative. Whatever happened, Barb, Brian and Emily would be protected. They would be safe. He would make sure of it.


	3. Don't You Dare

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating. As I stated in the re-write of chapter 2, using Nicole in this story just didn't work for me. So I changed it, and I am much happier with the flow of the story :-) Enjoy!**

* * *

As Bobby got to the bottom of the stairs, the doorbell rang. "I've got it," he called before Brian could move from the couch.

He pulled the door open for Alex and Teddy and tried to push his worries aside for the moment. "Come on in."

He shook Teddy's hand before turning to Alex. Her brow furrowed when she saw his face. She could tell something was wrong. He was more worked up than he had been been when he left work just two hours ago. She pressed her hands into Teddy's back. "Go on. I need to talk to Bobby."

Teddy readily complied, greeting Brian and Ray as he walked to the couch and lifted Emily from her grandfather's lap. "Hey, little mushroom!"

Alex smiled warmly before turning to her partner. Her smile faded. "What is it?"

"I...need to talk to you, but now..." He looked into the living room as Barb and Elsie came out of the kitchen. "Now isn't the time."

"Something happened."

"Yes and no. After dinner."

"Bobby..."

He reached out to touch her arm. "It's Brian's birthday, Alex. We'll talk later."

She studied him before nodding. "All right," she conceded. "After dinner."

He drew in a deep breath, struggling to settle himself before he followed her into the living room. The happy commotion of the room was grating on his frayed nerves, but he had years of practice in dealing with hiding his unrest. Falling back on old coping mechanisms, he withdrew into himself. With most of the attention in the room focused on Emily, no one noticed his withdrawal, except Barb.

She watched him standing near the fireplace, observing the room in silence. His hands flexed and he shifted restlessly from one foot to the other. Approaching him, she touched his arm. He looked at her but it took a moment for his thoughts to focus. He arched his eyebrows in a silent question. Barb responded with a concerned smile. "Help me bring the food to the table."

Stepping away from the fireplace, he followed her into the kitchen. She turned to him before she reached the stove and rested her hand on his chest. "What's wrong, Bobby?"

She had worked very hard to get beyond his barriers, and she was not willing to let him slip behind them again. His eyes searched her face and he dipped in unexpectedly to kiss her. Then he rested his forehead against hers. "I have a lot on my mind," he explained.

"Something happened since you got home."

He folded his hand around hers and drew it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss into her palm. "It's nothing for you to worry about. Alex and I will handle it."

She stepped closer. "Don't withdraw from me, please."

"Let me talk to Alex," he whispered. "I need her assessment; it may be nothing. We'll talk about it later."

She stroked his cheek, running her fingers along his jaw to his chin. He leaned in for another kiss, sliding his arms around her to keep her close. When he finally drew back, she laid her head on his chest and he kissed her hair. "Everything will be okay," he promised.

She enjoyed his embrace for a few more moments. "The food is going to get cold," she said softly, with a slight tremor in her voice.

With a nod, he released her, and they brought the food to the table as everyone drifted in from the other room.

Throughout the meal, Emily was passed from one adult to another, happily enjoying the attention she received from each. While sitting in her brother's lap, she reached out and buried her hand in his potatoes before bringing her fist to her mouth. The unfamiliar taste and texture earned a sour face and shudder from the baby, and the adults around her laughed. Brian used his napkin to clean her hand and face. "Serves you right, you little thief," he laughed.

Dinner was a generally happy affair, but Bobby remained distracted, participating in the conversation around him only when he was drawn into it. After the meal, everyone returned to the living room as Bobby helped Barb clear the table. He gave her a kiss and said, "Go on into the living room. I'll clean up in here."

"The dishes can wait, Bobby."

"It's okay, Barb. I, uh...I just need a little down time." He waved his hand near his head. "I need to think."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Positive. Go on and enjoy yourself. I'll be out shortly."

She hesitated, then nodded and walked to the doorway, where she turned as he pushed up his sleeves and began to fill the sink with hot water. She smiled to herself. She always enjoyed washing the dishes with him, but at the moment, he needed to be alone and she had guests to spend time with. Silently, she kissed the tips of her fingers and blew the kiss to him. She left the doorway.

Bobby was almost done when Alex came into the kitchen. "You know, there is a dishwasher just to your right."

His mouth quirked into a small smile, but he did not turn. "I know. I like to wash them by hand sometimes."

"Like when you're avoiding something?"

"I'm not avoiding anything. I...uh, dinner was a little...busy. I needed some quiet to think."

"You still want to talk about it?"

No, he didn't. Talking about it with anyone else would bring it into the harsh light of reality. But he knew he had to talk with her, to let her know what was going on. She was his partner, and he might very well need her to watch his back again if this situation ever came to a head. He rinsed the last few dishes and set them in the drain. Letting the water out of the sink, he turned, leaning back against the counter and drying his hands. He looked at the towel, then balled it up and tossed it on the counter.

He motioned to Eames and crossed the kitchen. She followed him down a narrow hall to a seldom-used door that led into the side yard. Opening the door, he held it for her and followed her out onto the path that wound among the rose bushes and other flowers that beautified the yard. Once in the backyard, she walked to the porch and sat on the steps, watching him wander aimlessly among the flowers in the garden.

"What's wrong, Bobby?" she finally asked, her tone soft and encouraging.

"Yesterday's mail," he began. "A card...was delivered here. There was no return address, but it was postmarked in the city. The card was unsigned, but there was a note inside, and a copy of Emmie's birth announcement. The note..." He stopped, looking toward a cluster of yellow and pink rose bushes. He reached out to caress a pale pink rose, and his hand trembled. When he spoke, though, his voice was steady and he spoke with confidence. "It was from Don Carlo, Eames."

Alex started. "Don Carlo? Are you sure?"

He turned his head toward her, and she knew by the set of his jaw that he had no doubt the mob boss had sent him the card. She trusted his instinct, as always. "What did it say?"

He shoved his hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out the note, handing it to her. He resumed his pacing as she read it, balling his hand in and out of a fist. When she was through reading, she folded the paper and looked at him. "So what do you think it means?"

After a couple of false starts, he finally said, "Family, Eames. It's about family. His family...my family... As for what kind of threat he presents..." He shook his head slowly, no longer looking in her direction. "I don't know. I just know that he does."

She watched him with worried eyes. She didn't know what to say, how to reassure him. Carlo Gambisi had proven himself to be a real threat to Bobby, but she was less sure about what kind of danger he would present to Barb, Brian and Emily. She rubbed her hands together. "Have you remembered anything more about the time he had you?"

He shook his head impatiently. "No. Sometimes...sometimes I have nightmares...but they are, uh...They aren't clear memories. My head was so messed up..." The memory made him nauseous. "I don't remember," he said finally, irritated. "And I don't know what to do."

His gut was in a knot and talking with Alex had only seemed to make it worse. He looked up sharply when the door opened and Barb stepped out onto the porch. She folded her arms across her chest and watched him expectantly. He ran a hand through his hair and turned away.

Barb crossed the porch and sat beside Alex. Her voice was firm. "I have a strong feeling this somehow involves me, so one of you had better tell me what's going on."

Silently, Alex handed her the paper that was folded in her hands. Barb read the handwritten note, then looked from Alex to Bobby. She knew from his agitation that there was significance to the note, but she wasn't sure just what it could be. "What does it mean?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure."

"But you know who it's from."

He nodded. "It's from Don Carlo," he said reluctantly.

"Don Carlo? The mobster who kidnapped you in March?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yes."

She watched him silently for a moment as he stared at the ground. "Bobby, look at me."

He hesitated, then looked up. "You're worried," she observed quietly.

"It's what he does," Alex remarked.

Barb looked at her. "Are you worried?"

Alex looked at her partner before she nodded. "Yes, Barb. I am. But the threat is too vague for us to act on."

The only sound in the yard was the song of the birds calling the night as the late summer sun set. Barb hugged her knees as she read the note again while Alex rubbed her hands over her thighs. Bobby paced near the roses. Finally Barb asked, "Do you think this is directed toward us?"

"It could be," Bobby answered. "But I don't know for sure."

She tapped the note. "How did you get this?"

"In the mail."

"So he knows where we live."

"Yes. And he knows who you are...to me." He pushed his fingers through his hair. "I...I don't know how to deal with this." He looked at Alex. "I could confront Carlo directly."

Alex jumped to her feet and poked his chest with her index finger, angry. "Don't you even think about it, Goren. After what happened last time...Don't you dare!"

Bobby backed up a step, surprised at her vehemence. He recovered quickly. "I can't just sit around, waiting!" he snapped back.

Barb rose and stepped between the arguing partners. "Please don't fight," she said reasonably. "That won't solve anything."

Bobby turned away, taking a few deep breaths. "I'm sorry," he said, letting out a heavy breath.

Alex slowly let out her breath. "So am I. But you can't confront Carlo. It's too dangerous." She sat back down on the step. "What we can do, for now, is assign a team to keep an eye on things."

Barb watched them with interest. "To watch the house?"

Bobby looked at her. "The house isn't in any danger, Barb. We'd assign the team to you."

She sighed impatiently. "Bobby..."

"Please, don't," he implored. He didn't want to fight with either of them, but he was stressed and he was not good at dealing with a threat he could not confront face-to-face.

The porch door opened and Brian poked his head out. "Is this a private party or can anyone join?"

Bobby waved a hand in the air and walked off into the yard. Brian stepped out onto the porch with Emmie in his arms, frowning. "What's wrong?"

Alex shook her head dismissively. "He's in a bad mood, that's all."

She stepped up onto the porch and held her arms out for the baby. Talking and cooing to the happy little girl, she cuddled her. Brian smiled, but his smile faded when he looked at his mother. She was watching Bobby at the far end of the yard. Reaching out, Brian placed his hand on her shoulder. "Gran and Poppa are getting ready to leave, Mom."

She nodded. "Thank you, sweetheart."

She gave him a hug and went into the house. Brian stood beside Alex, but before he could say anything, she glanced across the yard and said, "I'll take Emmie back inside. I don't want any of these mosquitoes to get her."

Brian acknowledged her with a nod but he didn't follow her into the house. He stepped off the porch into the yard and approached Bobby. Bobby looked over his shoulder as Brian drew near. "Alex and Mom went inside?"

"Yeah. Gran and Poppa are leaving."

With a sigh, Bobby looked toward the house. He felt an obligation to go inside to say good night, but his current mood prevented him from acting on it. He hoped they would understand. Brian watched him. "Can I help?"

Bobby shifted his gaze to the young man. "Help? What do you mean?"

"Something's going on. If I can help..."

Bobby shook his head, cutting him off with a gentle gesture. "No. It's not really anything that can be helped."

"What's wrong?"

"I...overreacted to a note I got in the mail, that's all."

Brian looked skeptical, but all he said was "Let me know if I can help, okay?"

Bobby nodded. "Just...watch out for your mom and Emmie, that's all. If you notice anything that makes you nervous, call me right away."

"Is there anything specific I need to watch for?"

"Just...be observant, Brian. Trust yourself and call me if anything doesn't feel right."

Brian nodded, unsettled by the intensity behind Bobby's request. Bobby squeezed his shoulder. "I'm going for a walk. I'll be back in a little while."

The young man watched him cross the yard and disappear into the gathering shadows along the side of the house. He sighed and returned to the house.


	4. Opening the Doors of Memory

Bobby walked around the neighborhood for nearly an hour, but his restlessness only increased. Usually, walking helped to calm him, but it wasn't working this time. He stopped at the bar five blocks from the house. He'd been there before, after work a few times when he really needed to unwind before he went home. Barb was very good about his moods, but sometimes, he felt the need to spare her from a particularly dark mood after a very difficult day.

Friday nights were busy in any bar, and this one was no exception. There were three empty stools on the far side of the bar, and he chose the one in the middle. He did not feel like conversation or company. He just wanted to be alone with his thoughts. He ordered a double scotch and let his mind wander, chasing down elusive memories that he knew had to be in there somewhere.

He was halfway through his third drink when someone slid onto one of the empty seats beside him. He paid no attention until a hand closed on his arm. He turned suddenly, a dark look on his face, which lifted as soon as he recognized her. "Eames, what are you doing here?"

"Looking for my idiot partner because his better half is worried about him."

He patted his pockets, looking for his phone. "I guess I left my phone home."

"You did. We called you and it rang in the living room."

He looked at his glass and ran his finger around the rim. "Is she upset?"

"No, though she ought to be. I called her already and told her you were here. Teddy is there playing chess with Brian, so I'll sit here with you. Barb insists we stay in the guest room tonight."

The bartender stopped in front of them and she ordered a bourbon and coke. He prepared the drink and topped off Bobby's glass. Eames took a drink and asked, "So what's going through that head of yours?"

"Not much. I keep trying to remember what happened. It's got to be in there somewhere."

"Bobby, he kept you drugged. You're not going to remember."

He tipped his head to one side, a thoughtful look on his face. He looked at the deep rich mahogany of the bar. The memories were in there. They taunted him in his sleep, slipping away when he woke. "Memory," he murmured thoughtfully. He looked at his partner. "The brain is always forming memories. Long term, short term...it's always working. Even when it's impaired, it's always working...just not in the same way."

"So something that happens when you're drunk or stoned still gets filed away."

"Yes, but in a different way than when you're sober." He rubbed his chin. "That's why I can almost get there when I'm sleeping. It's an altered state of consciousness."

"So you think if you drink enough scotch, maybe you'll remember? Do you really want to do that? What do you think you'll gain by it?"

"I need to know what kind of threat Carlo poses to my family, Eames."

"Maybe the threat isn't to them."

"Either way, I need to know. He grabbed me for a reason, and it wasn't just to prevent me from testifying. He isn't stupid. He had to know that Carver's case against Rico did not rest solely on me. There was another reason for him to do what he did. I have to figure out what that reason was."

"Suppose there is no deeper reason. What if he really did nab you to prevent you from testifying?"

Bobby shook his head. "No. If that was all he wanted, his gorillas could have messed me up in the parking garage. Carlo wanted to see me, to talk to me. He had a message to give me."

Eames watched him for a moment. "What good is giving you a message you can't remember?"

"I doubt Carlo thought of that."

Slowly, Eames nodded. "All right. See what you can find at the bottom of that bottle. I promised Barb I wouldn't leave you alone."

He hated that Barb worried, but he realized that worry was a price you paid for love. Reluctantly, he shifted his thoughts from Barb to Don Carlo, and he raised his glass to his mouth.

* * *

Eames stopped after three drinks, switching to plain cola. She listened when Bobby spoke, but he wasn't making much sense to her. Hopefully, talking about it all after he was sober would help. She cautioned him not to drink so much that he wouldn't remember anything, which would be totally counterproductive. That made him laugh, but she hoped he took her seriously. And she wondered if it would be enough for her to recall the disjointed phrases he directed her way.

He lost track of how much he had to drink. He was chasing the thoughts in his mind, hoping to grasp the right ones. Gradually, memories began to flicker in his head, like an old time movie reel, black and white but faded, skipping around just out of reach. Every few seconds, words or images would jump into focus, only to retreat before his mind got a good grasp of them. Occasionally, an image or a string of words would wander too close, and he could grab it. They were isolated, but they were much closer now, and he continued to search for anything that Carlo might have said to him that would solidify the threat he read in the note from the mob boss.

Carlo's gruff voice echoed and rolled around in his head, but the phrases he did remember meant little to him taken out of context.

_Do you have children?_

_A nice-looking boy...married...unattached...be a father..._

_Eight...Eight...Eight children...my Rico...my Berto..._

_Barbara Weaver...her child..._

_What do I do with you...with you..._

_A worthy...too worthy...adversary..._

_Family...Family...Family..._

He scrubbed his face and ran his hand along the back of his neck. _Dammit!_ What the hell did it all mean? What had Carlo told him? He signaled the bartender for another drink.

* * *

As the night wore on, the bar gradually emptied. The bartender stopped in front of them. He looked at Eames. "Can I call you guys a cab or something?"

She shook her head. "No, thanks. Home's not far."

He looked from her to Bobby, who was not paying attention to him. He refilled her cola and then half-filled Bobby's glass. "Last call," he said. "My treat."

"Thanks," Eames said with a smile.

Bobby looked up at him as he lifted his glass and propped his chin on his other hand. "There's always a tomorrow," he said.

The bartender nodded in agreement. "Yeah, there is. Be careful. Don't walk out in front of any cars on your way home, and you'll see the next one."

Bobby laughed. _Walk out in front of a car..._

He took a drink, setting the glass on the bar and turning it around slowly as another voice rattled around in his head. Not Carlo's...one of his hirelings...but Bobby couldn't picture the man. All he had was the memory of a voice.

_Get him out of the car, Sal..._

_Make sure you do the job right, Marco...Don Carlo will tank us if we screw this up..._

_Screw this up..._

Bobby downed the last of his drink and slid off the bar stool. He took a moment to be sure his legs were under him. "Ready, Eames?"

"Ready when you are."

The night was warm and humid. Typical city summer. Before too long, it would cool off as fall approached. The partners walked away from the bar into the night. Bobby looked around. The city streets were never completely dark, but the night was so very different from the light of day. All manner of the strange and unusual came out at night. He never feared the night. He always felt that he fit in with the nighttime denizens of the urban jungle.

Somehow, he found the courage to put a voice to his deepest fear. "Do you think Barb really loves me?"

"Of course she does. She puts up with you."

"So do you."

"Yeah, but she does it because she wants to, because she loves you enough to overlook everything and not get pissed over the stupid shit you do. I care about you in a different way and I do get pissed over the stupid shit you do."

He nodded slowly, accepting her explanation."And that's a good thing."

"Of course it is."

He rolled that around in his head for a bit. "Good, bad, evil..." he muttered, chasing his mind on a different tangent. He held his hands out in front of him, palms up. "Good..." He raised one hand higher than the other. Then he changed them up and said, "Bad. There's good out there and there's bad out there." He closed the hand that represented 'bad' into a fist. "And then there's evil. But it's not the same as bad."

She nodded, not sure where he was going with the comparison. She made sure to steer him away from the curb as she listened. He raised his index finger from the fist. "I never believed in evil. Not when I was little. Then...then Mom got sick, and she beat it into me that there is evil out there, and it was out to get us." He tipped his head to one side and he drifted toward the curb again. Eames nudged him back toward the houses that lined the street. He didn't seem to notice. "When she started screaming that I was evil, she only confused me."

Usually, when he talked about his childhood, he was trying to get a confession from a suspect, to make some connection based on similar experiences. Sometimes, she wasn't sure what to believe. Bobby could bluff with the best of them. But he wasn't bluffing right now. His guard was way down; he was vulnerable. And he was opening up to her. This was a rare conversation for them.

He still held his closed fist in front of him. "I began to understand her disease when I was a teenager, and I realized that the evil she feared, the evil she saw, was all in her head, part of her delusions. So I started to wonder if evil really does exist."

"What did you decide?" she asked, steering him around a corner as they got closer to home.

"I didn't have to decide anything, Eames." He waved his index finger in the air. "I found evil. It does exist. Sometimes, people make mistakes. It's part of being human. But sometimes, it's not a mistake. Sometimes people kill because they get something from it, some kind of thrill, a rush of pleasure. And I understand that, Eames. I understand the minds and the motives of people who kill for the rush. I get why they do it, and that worries me." He waved his hand in the air and pointed in the distance. "Because...I...I _can _get into their heads. Because...there...there but for the Grace of God, and some odd quirk of fate, go I."

"Bobby, you are the best cop I've ever worked with."

He stopped in front of the house with his hand on the gate. He gave her an odd look of satisfaction. "I understand the criminal mind, Eames. I can put myself in their places. It's only because of a handful of circumstances that I am your partner and not your quarry." He held up a hand, his thumb and forefinger held only millimeters apart. "It was close," he murmured, leaning over to bring his face level with hers. "It was this close, Eames." He leaned against the gate when his balance faltered. "We're different, you and I. You were raised to be a cop. Me...I was raised to be a criminal."

"You are a good person," she insisted quietly.

He snickered. "I suppose I am...but I have no idea how that happened."

He took his weight off the gate and opened it. They stepped into the front yard, well-tended by Barb's loving hand. At the porch, Alex hopped up onto the second step and turned, her face almost level with his. She held out a hand, pressing it against his chest, stopping him. She met his eyes. "Don Carlo," she said.

After all he was the reason for this little experiment in inebriation. He leaned into her hand as he looked up at the house, dark except for the light in the foyer. "I can't be sure, but I don't think he's after them. I think I'm the one he wants." He stopped trying to force the memories and they flooded into his head in a sudden rush. "Family," he murmured, his eyes half closed. "He talked about family, how important they are. He told me to cherish them. An-And he promised...that Barb would watch her baby grow up." He looked around, finally settling his gaze on her face. "But he never promised that I would."

He took a step back, away from her, and stumbled a few more until he caught his balance. Moving forward, he weaved past Alex and climbed the steps onto the porch. She only had to steady him once.

After a few attempts, he got his key in the door and opened it. Alex closed and locked it behind her. She heard a muffled, almost inaudible sound on the stairs as she turned away from the door, followed by a soft 'mew' as Storm charged down the stairs and threaded herself in and around Bobby's legs. "Dammit, Storm," he growled, trying not to step on her. Alex stifled a laugh, grabbing his arm as he tripped over the kitten and hit the wall with his shoulder. He waved a hand at the little troublemaker. "Go on upstairs, before I do step on you."

She was halfway up the stairs when he added, "And don't wake anyone."

On the top step, she turned and waited for him. Alex was trying to keep her laughter quiet. Halfway up the stairs, he turned to look at her and nearly lost his balance. She pressed her hands against his lower back to keep him on the steps above her. "Just keep moving, Goren, or we'll both end up on the floor at the foot of the stairs."

The bedroom door was barely open, but it was enough for Storm. She vanished into the bedroom. Bobby paused outside the door and looked at his partner. "Thank you, Eames."

"For what?"

"For...giving up your Friday night for me."

She smiled. "Anytime, partner. Good night, Bobby."

He watched her walk down the hall to the spare bedroom where Teddy slept. He turned to the door Storm had vanished behind and paused. It had taken some time for him to adjust to thinking of Barb's home as his, too. It had taken even longer for him to get it set in his head that her bedroom was also his, that it was theirs. He didn't deserve this...this contentment—he hesitated to label it happiness for fear it would vanish in a puff of smoke—and yet, here it was, just beyond the door in front of him, in the bedrooms just down the hall. It was all around him, like a warm and comfortable cocoon.

He pushed the door open so he could enter the room. Closing the door, he pulled his shirt up over his head, stumbling sideways into the dresser. The corner of it jabbed him in the ribs. "Shit," he growled, rubbing his side.

He sat on the bed and worked off his shoes. A cool hand came to rest in the middle of his back. "Did you solve anything?" she asked as she stroked her hand over his skin.

He shrugged. "I-I think..."

His mind turned blank when she began to kiss his neck. She gently tugged on his shoulders, easing him back, guiding him onto the pillows. She moved along with him and closed her mouth over his. He lost himself in her kiss.

When she drew back, he watched her from under heavy lids, and she knew this was not the time for any kind of conversation. She settled her head onto his shoulder and ran her fingers over his chest and stomach.

The room spun in one direction as his head spun in another. It was an odd though pleasant sensation. He half-smiled as he rested his cheek against her head and drifted to sleep.


	5. A Threat Confirmed

Bobby rolled over in bed and stretched out his arm, but there was no one beside him. He forced his eyes open as he ran his hand over Barb's pillow. Paper rustled under his hand and Storm appeared out of nowhere, seeking to play with the paper. He shooed her off his hand as he sat up and turned on the light on the nightstand next to him. His head pounded mercilessly and he took a drink of water from the glass Barb had left for him beside the lamp. Once his eyes had adjusted to the light, he read the note. _Bobby, Alex and I went shopping with Emmie. Brian is over at Dominic's. I'll see you when we get home. I love you, Barb._

He set the note on the nightstand and turned off the light. Burrowing back under the blanket, he closed his eyes. Storm crossed the pillow and pawed at his face, mewing. He didn't open his eyes. "Don't start with me, you little monster. I'm not in the mood. I know Barb fed you before she left."

After watching him for a little while longer, Storm walked to the top of the pillow and curled up against his head. She waited until his breathing evened out and he began to softly snore before she licked his hair. Then she nestled her head against his and went to sleep.

* * *

Barb was sitting on the couch when Bobby came down the stairs and into the living room. She turned her head and looked at him, smiling. "Sleep well?"

He nodded and sank down on the couch beside her, leaning over to kiss her. "How was the shopping trip?"

"Oh, it was more a looking trip. We met Elsie downtown and went browsing."

"Browsing for what?"

"Things for the wedding."

He nodded. "Make any decisions?"

"Nothing definite yet, except..."

"Except what?"

She settled her head against his shoulder. "I want this wedding to be relaxed. You're going to be tense enough and I want there to be a chance for you to have fun."

He smiled, slipped his arm around her and stroked her hair. "I'll just watch you having fun. That's all I need." He kissed her head. "Did you find a dress?"

She snuggled into his arms. "I wasn't looking for one. I love your dark blue suit, and that pale blue dress of mine with the yellow trim will go with it very nicely. Alex and Elsie can wear yellow. I saw an adorable dress for Emmie—yellow with dark blue trim. Brian, Ray and Teddy can wear gray suits with a dark blue tie. It will be perfect."

"Perfect is just what you deserve. I want this wedding to be everything you want it to be."

"What about you?"

"What about me?" He tipped her chin up and kissed her. "I have everything I want right here. We can get married before a JP and it wouldn't matter to me. Whatever you want is fine."

She slipped her hand under his shirt, rubbing his chest. She asked, "So, did you and Alex make any headway last night?"

She felt the sudden tension in his body. "Never mind. You don't have to tell me."

"It's not that. I..." He tightened his arm around her and pressed a kiss against her temple. "I don't think you have to worry. Everything is going to be all right."

His little experiment had been successful, and he remembered much of what Don Carlo had told him. He did not feel any threat against Barb or the baby. Whether or not there was any threat toward him, though, was less clear, and he didn't know what to do about that. He was uncomfortable dealing with an ill-defined threat he could neither confirm nor deny. He would not, however, say anything that would cause Barb unnecessary worry. She had a wedding to plan, and she was happy and excited about that. That was where he wanted her to put her energy. She also had the baby to entertain and delight her. Both the wedding and Emmie distracted her from her worries about his job and Brian's health.

She sat forward suddenly and tickled his stomach. "Let me fix you something to eat."

He watched her get up and leave the room. He stretched his legs out and rubbed his temples, not surprised when Storm climbed up onto his chest and licked his chin. He heard the front door open and close, but he didn't move until he felt the couch beside him shift. Turning his head, he looked at Brian, who grinned. "Hung over?"

"Somewhat," he admitted.

"So, what brought that on?"

Bobby gave a shrug. "It's nothing to be concerned about. What did you and Dominic do?"

"Not much. Played some video games, went to Subway for lunch..."

"Smoked some pot?"

A brief look of panic hit Brian's face and he stuttered a little. Bobby gave him a smile. "Don't panic, Brian. It helps...with the chemo, doesn't it? With the nausea and the pain?"

Brian nodded. "Uh, yeah. Especially the nausea. The pain is going away. One of my doctors said it wouldn't be a bad idea if I had trouble with my appetite. Dominic is, uh...connected. How did you know?"

"I was a narcotics cop for four years. I picked up a few things." He patted Brian's arm. "Don't worry. I understand. Does your mother know?"

He nodded. "Yeah. She was there when the doctor talked to me. I promised her I'd only do it if I really needed to and never at home."

"That's reasonable, with the baby and all."

Brian nodded. "And a former narcotics cop in the house?"

"Don't worry about me. Just keep it out of the house."

"Will do." He got up from the couch. "I'm gonna get something to eat."

"Good."

Bobby rested his head back and closed his eyes. He just began to doze when the baby's wail shattered the silence. He got up and walked to the playpen near the window. "Hey, what's the racket for?"

He picked her up and her cries quieted. Settling her against his shoulder, he patted her back and bounced her as he paced around the room. She pressed her fist against her mouth and sucked on it. "That's better," he cooed. "How about we sit down with another chapter of _Charlotte's Web_?"

He crossed the room to the bookcase built into the wall near her playpen and pulled a book from the shelf. Sitting in the recliner, he settled Emily into his lap and opened the book to the place he'd bookmarked. He began reading to her as she watched his face, wide-eyed and happy.

Barb came in to the room with a bottle, which she handed to him with a smile. Emily squeaked happily when she saw the bottle, and Bobby smiled at her. Most of the time, Barb nursed her. The bottle meant that Daddy was going to feed her and that was what she associated the bottle with: Daddy.

He gave her the bottle and held it while he continued reading to her. Barb wondered who enjoyed their time together more, the baby or her father. She stopped behind the recliner and leaned over to kiss his cheek. When she nibbled on his earlobe, he lost his place. She laughed softly into his ear, then went to get his sandwich.

* * *

Monday morning, Bobby arrived at work a half hour later than usual. Alex looked up and grinned at him. "What?" he asked. "The train was late."

"Really?"

His face colored a little, and her smile widened. He sat down and pulled a file from a stack on the side of his desk. Still smiling, she asked, "Why the train? Your car in the shop?"

"No, Barb's is. I left my car for her. She's got some shopping to do, and I don't mind taking the train."

She motioned at the file in his hand. "I think that's from your 'done' pile."

He opened the folder and looked over the top of it at her. Closing it, he dropped it back on the pile and took another file from a different pile. With a laugh, she turned back to her laptop.

* * *

Bobby and Alex caught a difficult case Tuesday morning, and they were late getting home every night for the rest of the week. By the time Bobby arrived home, the house was dark and still. Only Storm woke to greet him when he came in...at least until he climbed into bed. Though he tried not to wake her, Barb always turned to him and welcomed him home, and he was always glad she was happy to see him.

By the end of the week, he was restless and impatient. Although they'd made headway on the case, they hadn't yet wrapped it up, but he wanted to cut out early. He hadn't seen Emmie all week and he missed her. According to Barb, she missed him, too. She was always looking for him. He knew his job required sacrifices, but he didn't think he was asking for too much, not when they were going to be back in the squad room Saturday morning.

Fortunately, Deakins agreed and sent them both home early. Alex was both touched and amused by the changes in him. Before Barb came into his life, he would have remained in the squad room until late, reviewing evidence he saw in his sleep. Now he had a family, a focus outside the job to keep him busy, and Alex could not have been happier for him. She was also settled in a happy marriage, something she never thought she would find again after Joe died, and they were trying to start a family. She knew it was unlikely they would have a large family, but one or two children would make her life complete.

She offered to give Bobby a ride home, but he declined. It was a beautiful evening and he liked the walk home from the subway station. Besides, Brian had a chemo treatment that afternoon and no one would be home when he got there. It would be a nice surprise for them to find him home when they arrived.

She said good night and left him in the elevator when she got off in the parking garage. The week had been very long, but they were both in good spirits, excited about the chance to actually be home before the sun set.

Bobby emerged from the subway station and walked down the street, toward the upper middle class neighborhood Barb had called home all her life. It was a good twenty minute walk along quiet streets, lined with well-tended yards and beautiful gardens filled with late summer blooms. He was looking forward to hearing the doctor's report following Brian's chemo treatment. Every report was more encouraging than the last one. He was especially excited to be getting home before Emmie went to bed. Nothing in his life had prepared him for the emotions she stirred in him. When Barb got pregnant, he questioned his readiness for fatherhood, and those doubts remained with him right up until the moment she was born. Barb said he was a natural, but it was Emily who made it easy for him.

As he unlatched the front gate and pushed it open, he heard a noise behind him. Spinning around, he caught a blow to the side of the head that stunned him for a moment. Recovering quickly, he began to fight.

He was no stranger to fighting, and he gained the upper hand long enough to get away from his two assailants. Scrambling toward the house, he fumbled with his keys as blood streamed into his eyes. He wiped at his face, unaware of how heavily he was bleeding from the wound in his head. Adrenaline drove him on, and he finally got the key in the lock and turned it. Stumbling through the door, the keys fell from his hand and skittered under the small table in the foyer. Storm came scrambling into the foyer to chase the keys. As he stumbled into the living room, he pulled out his phone and pressed the three. Alex answered on the second ring. "Hey. Don't tell me you've still got your mind on the case."

"Eames..." was all he was able to manage.

"Bobby?"

The phone slipped from his hand as he collapsed to the floor.

"Bobby?"

Storm abandoned the keys when she heard him fall, approaching him with a soft mew. This was different. She cocked her head at the familiar voice that came from the phone. As she drew closer, she stepped in something wet, but she kept going, flicking her paws at the unfamiliar wet stickiness on them. She reached his face and licked his nose, mewing at him, but he didn't move.

She jumped, startled, when the front door slammed against the wall behind it. Her back arched, she hissed and spit at the approaching men. One of them backhanded her, sending her spinning across the polished wood floor. She slid into the wall, stunned for a moment. Then, shaking her head, she scrambled to her feet and hurried back to him, but the only thing left where he had been was a pool of blood and the now-quiet phone. Confused, Storm sat beside the sticky, red puddle and mewed, wondering where he'd gone.


	6. A Startling Revelation

**A/N: A quick note to my Portuguese friend 'Sell' in Brazil. Thank you very much for your reviews-I do translate and read every one. I continue to work on my WIPs and have every intention of completing them all, even the ones that haven't seen updates in awhile. I'm not going to leave any of them hanging. As with every single reader who reviews what I write, I welcome and appreciate your reviews and your feedback. I am also open to any suggestions or ideas anyone may have! If you have a chance, send me a PM. I welcome any opportunity to correspond with my readers. Much thanks to each and every one of you!**

* * *

Alex wasted no time rushing out of the house to her car. She called Teddy as she slammed her car into gear and pulled away from the curb, forcing calm into her voice when he answered. She simply said she had to go over to Bobby's and she'd be home later. Teddy knew they were working a difficult case, so he told her to drive carefully and he would see her when she got home.

Relieved that her husband never gave her grief, she said another silent thank you to God for bringing him into her life, just before she prayed that her partner was all right. She dropped the phone on the passenger seat as she tried to convince herself it was nothing, that she would find him safe at home with a dead cell phone, but she was not succeeding. He'd spoken a single word, a word she heard cross his lips every day—her name—and she knew that something was wrong.

An eternity passed before she pulled up to the house that had become her partner's home, surprised to find two local patrol cars pulling up at the same time. Jumping out of the car, she identified herself to them and they deferred to her, following her into the yard. Cautiously, she drew her gun and moved toward the house, praying that whatever had happened, Barb, Brian and the baby had not been home.

She saw the blood on the walkway, on the porch, smeared on the door. Her heart pounded in her ears. Taking a deep breath, she stepped through the door, keeping her back to the wall as she inched through the foyer. The officers followed her. She saw his keys on the floor near the table. Avoiding the trail of blood, she braced herself and rounded into the living room, finding the still mewing, unsettled kitten, paws bloody, sitting by a puddle of coagulating blood. Bobby's phone lay on the floor nearby.

Startled by Alex's sudden appearance, Storm bounced to her feet, back arched, growling and hissing. "It's okay, Storm. Calm down."

Recognizing the voice, Storm hurried to her, leaving tiny, bloody paw prints on the wooden floor. Alex picked up the shaken kitten and they searched the rest of the house. No one was there. Soothing the trembling kitten and ignoring the blood Storm had transferred to her gray shirt, she pulled out her phone and called for the crime scene unit to respond. Then she called Deakins.

* * *

Barb and Brian arrived home to find a street full of flashing lights and a yard full of cops. Alex approached the car as Barb and Brian got out. "Alex? What's wrong? What happened?" Barb asked, alarmed. "Is Bobby inside?"

Storm's head popped up from her resting place in the crook of Alex's arm. Alex had taken the time to clean the little cat, not wanting Barb to come home to see a bloody kitten. Now Storm jumped from Alex's arms to Barb, who cradled the kitten to her chest. Barb noticed the blood on Alex's shirt as she softly answered, "Bobby is missing, but we aren't sure what happened. Right now, we're canvassing the neighbors to see if anyone saw anything, but so far the only witness we have is Storm. She was badly shaken when I got here."

"How did you know..."

"Bobby called me, but all he was able to say was my name. I came right over, but he was already gone."

"Gone...How? Why?"

"I don't know, but it doesn't seem he left of his own accord."

Brian joined them with Emily, who squealed happily when she saw Alex. With a smile, Alex took the baby. Brian looked at Storm, who had snuggled herself into Barb's shirt, seeking comfort. "Poor little troublemaker. What happened?"

"She was confused and terrified. Whatever happened, she doesn't understand it. All she knows is Bobby's gone. I wish we could find out what she saw."

"Can we go inside?" Barb asked.

With the image of Bobby's blood still fresh in her mind, Alex shook her head. "I think it's a good idea for you to spend the night someplace else tonight. You're welcome to stay with Teddy and me."

Barb shook her head slowly. "Thank you, but we can go over to Ray and Elsie's. They have everything I might need for Emmie." She paused. "I'd like to see what you saw, Alex."

Alex shook her head. "No, you don't. Trust me. Our crime scene techs are going over the place, and if there is anything to find, they'll find it. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Barb met her eyes. "Yes. Be honest with me."

Alex looked from Barb to the baby and hugged the sweet little girl. Barb had raised one child alone. It would be a cruel twist of fate for her to have to do that a second time. She handed Emily back to her brother. Gently taking Barb's arm, she led her toward the house, stopping at the porch. "I'm not going to let you into the house, Barb. This is your home, and I'm not going to taint that by letting you see it the way it is right now. Bobby obviously put up a fight. My guess is they took him by surprise. That's all I know."

Barb looked around the garden. "Who would do this?"

"I don't know, but I will find out."

Alex looked toward the street as another car pulled up to the house. Deakins got out of the car. "Excuse me," she said, stepping away to talk to her captain.

Barb returned to her children, waiting by the car, and Brian slipped his arm around her. Storm poked her head up out of Barb's shirt, where she had taken refuge, and she mewed. Brian rubbed her head. "Little monster, what happened?"

Storm mewed again.

At the end of the driveway, Deakins conferred with Alex. "So one of my officers is missing, the only evidence we have is his blood and our only witness is a cat?"

"At the moment, that's it."

"Canvass?"

"In progress, but so far, no one's seen anything."

Deakins looked around at the surrounding homes. "And if someone did?"

"They'll talk. This is an established neighborhood, and Barb has lived here all her life. These people watch out for one another. The assault happened during the dinner hour. Most of these folks were eating dinner with their families so they didn't see what was going down on the street out front."

The captain sighed. "Great."

He turned to look at the home behind him, where Bobby now lived with the lovely nurse who was soon to be his wife. He shifted his gaze to the driveway, where his detective's bride-to-be stood with her children. Touching Alex's arm, he started toward Barb. Following his lead, Alex walked beside him, quietly introducing them. Deakins reached out his hand and lightly grasped Barb's. "I've heard many good things about you," he said. "And I am sorry we have to meet under these circumstances."

She gave him a small but genuine smile. "Bobby has good things to say about you, too, captain. Thank you for coming out here tonight. That tells me how much you think of him."

Before he could say anything else, one of the uniforms who was canvassing the neighbors called to him. Excusing himself, he approached the officer who waited by the curb. "Captain Deakins, we found someone who saw what happened."

Deakins and Alex went with him to a nearby squad car. Beside the car stood a man in his mid-forties, waiting for them.

"I'm Captain Deakins, and this is Detective Eames," Deakins said, extending his hand.

The man shook his hand firmly. "Carl Stanton. I live across from Barb and two doors down."

"Tell me what you saw."

"I was out in the yard, doing some weeding for my wife. She's been under the weather this week, so I was helping out. I didn't see Bobby come down the block but I heard some noise so I looked to see what was going on. Two men attacked him in the yard. They ganged up on him, hit him hard, and he went down, but he came up fighting. I guess, being a cop, he's tougher than most. He ran up the steps of the porch and got into the house, but they went after him. Then I saw them carry him out of the house into a car that was waiting for them. They took off in a hurry."

"What kind of car?"

"A dark blue sedan."

"Did you see the license plate?"

"New York plates. MMY-484."

"Which way did they go?"

Stanton pointed up the block. "That way."

"Why didn't you call the police?"

"I did. They put me on hold, so I called back. By the time I came back outside, your detective was here along with two patrol cars. One of the officers told me to go into my house, so I did."

"Do you think you would recognize these men if you saw them again?"

"I think so. I'm pretty good with faces."

"Would you come to the station with us and look at some pictures?"

"Of course. Anything I can do to help. I've known Barb and her family for years. I like Bobby, and it makes me sick to think something bad happened to him."

Alex nodded. "I understand that. Thank you, Mr. Stanton."

Deakins walked with him to Eames' car. "What do you do for a living, Mr. Stanton?"

"I'm an investment banker with Morgan Stanley."

Alex asked him to have a seat in her car and she went to talk with Barb. "I have to go, Barb. Your neighbor, Mr. Stanton, saw what happened and I'm going to take him to look at some pictures."

"They didn't see him, did they?"

Deakins shook his head. "I'm sure they didn't. They wouldn't have left a witness."

Alex slipped her arm around Barb. "Go on to Ray's, Barb. Try not to worry. I'll let you know what we find out."

"Thank you, Alex," Barb said, returning her hug. When she pulled back, she met Alex's eyes. "Can you tell me you won't worry?"

Alex looked toward Deakins before she shook her head, unable to lie to the woman her partner loved. Barb squeezed her hand. "I _will_ worry," she said. "It's part of loving a cop, isn't it?"

"I wish I could say it wasn't."

Deakins placed his hand on Barb's shoulder. "I give you my word, Barb—we're going to find him."

Alex had once admonished Bobby for making a similar promise to a grieving family, but he had remained true to his word. They'd found the killers he promised they would find. She silently prayed that Deakins' promise would also be kept.

He spoke with such confidence, Barb almost believed him. She knew he would do everything he could to find Bobby, but she also knew he could not guarantee success, no matter how desperately he wanted to. "Thank you," she answered, honestly appreciating the obvious affection he had for Bobby.

"Alex will keep you informed, but please don't hesitate to call me if I can do anything for you."

She nodded and watched him walk away, back toward the patrol cars that blocked the street. Alex stayed with them for a moment. "Brian, can you drive?" she asked.

He nodded. "Gran and Pop don't live far. C'mon, Mom."

Alex watched him open the passenger door for his mother, then put Emmie back in her seat. He turned to her once more. "Alex, before you leave, could you check on Marcus for me? He's in my room, and he'll be fine there. Just make sure he has food and water for me?"

Alex nodded. "I will. Take care of your mother, and call me if you need anything. I'll be in touch."

"Thanks, Alex." He hesitated before asking, "You're gonna find him, right?"

She nodded, echoing Deakins' sentiment. "Yes. We'll find him."

She spoke with more confidence than she felt, appreciating Brian's cool-in-a-crisis demeanor. She wished she felt as together as he sounded. Standing by, she watched him back out of the driveway and drive down the street. With a heavy sigh, she turned and walked to her car. "I'll be right back, Mr. Stanton."

She went into the house to check on Brian's cat, making sure he had food and water. Returning to the street, she spoke with Deakins for a moment, then got in and drove to 1PP, where she set Stanton up in a conference room with books of mug shots and a cup of coffee. Sitting nearby, she waited while he looked at the pictures.

* * *

Deakins arrived back at the squad room at 9:45. Alex was waiting for him. "We got a positive ID, captain. I sent Mr. Stanton home with an officer."

"Who did he finger?"

"Eddie DelMonico and Tony Pazzotta."

Deakins stared at her for a moment. "You've got to be kidding."

She shook her head. "He was positive on the IDs."

"DelMonico and Pazzotta are underlings for the Masuccis. Why would the Masuccis be interested in Goren?"

She shook her head. "I don't know, captain, unless it has something to do with Carlo Gambisi."

"Why would it?"

She sighed. "Bobby got a card in the mail the other day, a baby congratulations card from Don Carlo. It really upset him."

"The Masuccis and the Gambisis are rival families."

She nodded. "And somehow, Bobby's got himself caught in the middle of them."

Deakins headed for his office. "I'll get Captain Olmstead from OCC on the line."

Eames followed him, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Just what had her partner gotten himself into this time?


	7. Desperate Measures

The table in the conference room was littered with stacks of files, papers and photos. Eames stood at one end of the room with Deakins, their attention focused on two officers who stood at the other end of the room. The lead detective, an experienced officer named Jerry Edmonds, paced as he talked. "Back in the day, Frank Masucci and Carlo Gambisi were close. Gambisi was one of Masucci's most trusted friends. To this day we have no idea what went sour between them, but Gambisi embarked on his own in the early 80s. His syndicate quickly grew to rival Masucci's and the once-friends became bitter rivals. After Frank Masucci's death in 1990, Gambisi's power base increased exponentially. Even though the Masucci family has regained much of the power it lost after Frank's death, Gambisi has not lost any of his. So these two families continue to battle for the title of New York's Top Crime Family.

"Now, Don Carlo is not a young man, and his heir apparent was his youngest son, Rico. When Rico went up for murder last year, that was a blow to the Don. Your missing detective played a vital role in Rico's conviction, despite Don Carlo's attempt to knock him out of commission. We still haven't unraveled his motivation for last year's kidnapping since he let Goren live.

"We reviewed all the evidence you gave us in this latest kidnapping, and we agree with your conclusion that the Masuccis are behind it. But we're at a loss to find motivation. Goren hasn't had any direct involvement with a Masucci case that we can find, and we haven't been able to find anything he's done that would bring the wrath of the Masuccis down on him.

"He's been more involved with the Gambisis, but not since Rico went up for murder. So we don't know what to think."

"What about the card Don Carlo sent him last week?" Eames asked.

"An unsigned card containing a typewritten note. The only prints on it were yours and your partner's. There's no proof it came from Don Carlo. We can't run off half-cocked with no evidence at one of the most powerful Dons in the city based on a gut feeling."

"You wouldn't be accusing him of anything," she insisted. "Not if you're sure the Masuccis took him."

"Without knowing why the Masuccis took him, we're not going near Gambisi."

"So, what? That's the end of it? My partner is another sacrificial offering to the Masucci crime gods?"

"Eames," Deakins said softly. He touched her arm and said, "You gentlemen are supposed to be the experts on these organized crime families. You don't know why Goren was taken, so you find out. Put out your feelers, talk to your contacts, do whatever it is you need to do, but find my detective."

Edmonds nodded. "We'll do everything we can, captain."

Deakins led Eames out of the room. "More flies with honey, Eames," he cautioned. "I know you're upset, but you don't want to alienate yourself from the people who can help."

"So what do we do in the meantime? Sit on our hands and hope for the best?"

"No. You're a detective. You do your job. I'll keep you in the loop."

He patted her on the back and returned to his office. She walked to her desk and sat down, staring at Goren's empty chair as an unwanted image of his blood on the polished wood floor of his living room filled her head. _Family_. Don Carlo told him that family was most important. He promised that Barb would live to see her baby grow up. _But he never promised that I would_. She wondered about that as she recalled the words the Don had typed on the note he'd placed in the card Bobby received from him—she had no doubt the card was from Don Carlo. _Nothing is more important than family_.

There was only one thing she could do. She had to go to see Don Carlo.

* * *

_Spinning and spinning and spinning..._

The world kept twirling around and around. Slowly, he opened his eyes. He could have been on a merry-go-round, like the one at the park when he and Frank were kids. They would take turns on the ride, spinning each other in circles then laughing as they watched each other try to walk.

He raised his hand to his head. Wet and sticky. Blood. Closing his eyes again, he imagined blue sky and white clouds, swirling together in an infinite dance. _Spinning..._

An inky darkness reached out, tickling the white clouds with its tendrils as it became caught up in the twirling dance, consuming the white and the blue until only the darkness remained.

* * *

She was playing a dangerous game and she knew it, but she had nowhere else to go. The OCC didn't seem to be placing their missing officer on their priority list and Deakins had to play the political game. That left her with very few options. She wasn't sure that Don Carlo was involved, but something told her that he was the only person who could help her, and she was desperate. So she began asking questions, seeking out the Don, and she got her wish.

Leaving the office two days after Goren's kidnapping, she walked to her car in the parking garage. They approached her from behind, grabbing her before she had a chance to react. She felt a sharp prick in her arm, followed by a burning sensation as she struggled against the men who held her. Everything around her began to swirl together and she got lost in the swirling river of color that faded to black.

* * *

Her mouth was dry. She felt dizzy and nauseous. She groaned, drawing the attention of someone else who was in the room with her. "Relax," came a gentle, female voice. "It'll pass in a minute. Just try to relax."

Slowly, she opened her eyes to look at the woman seated on the edge of the bed. She was older, with eyes that were kind and sad all at the same time. "Who are you?" she asked the woman, her voice hoarse.

The woman gently eased her up and held a glass of water for her to drink. "Just a little. There." She eased her back down. "It will wear off soon. You have been asking around for my husband, Carlo. So he brought you here, to hear what you have to say."

"He could have sent a car without the goons."

"He's a very private man, detective."

"Especially when cops are involved."

"Yes. He has to be careful. If you're feeling better, I can take you to see him."

"The sooner, the better. I need to see him."

The woman helped her to her feet, steadying her. "Are you sure you feel all right?"

"I'm fine. Let's go."

Carlo's wife led her from the room, through several hallways, into a large, poshly furnished office. Behind a large oak desk sat Carlo Gambisi. He smiled at her. "Detective...Eames, is it? It's not often lovely lady cops go around asking for me. What can I do for you?"

"You know my partner."

Gambisi's brow furrowed. "Do I?"

"You sent him a card, Mr. Gambisi. On the birth of his little girl."

"Ah, Detective Goren is your partner? He has it made, then, at work and at home." He smiled at his wife. "I admire a man who surrounds himself with beauty."

Eames ignored his comment. For her partner's sake, she refused to lose her temper with Gambisi. "Do you know the names Eddie DelMonico and Tony Pazzotta?"

One thing she was learning from Bobby was how to read faces, and she saw her answer in Gambisi's face. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Those are two very bad men. What possible business could you have with them?"

"They snatched my partner from his home, Don Carlo."

Gambisi's reaction was a big one, but he quickly got it under control. "His wife and daughter?"

"They weren't home."

She saw relief on his face. "I had nothing to do with it," he insisted.

"I never thought you did. Right now, the organized crime unit is camped out in my squad room, looking through thirty years of files for God only knows what. I know you and the Masuccis are rivals. I know what cases my partner and I are working. There is nothing to tie the two together. They didn't grab him just because he's a cop. They grabbed him because of the interest you have shown in him..._and_ because he's a cop."

"Suspicious bastards," Gambisi muttered, almost under his breath.

"Bobby thought the card you sent could be a veiled threat against him. He remembered your promise that Barb would live to see her baby grow up. He also remembered that you never said that he would."

Gambisi shook his head. "It was never meant as a threat. That was why I didn't sign the card."

"A typewritten note that reminded him of your conversation was sufficient enough to do that."

Gambisi's mouth tightened into a thin line. "Let me be honest with you, detective. I was very impressed with your partner. He stood up to me without backing down. That could be construed as courage or foolishness. I saw fear in his eyes only once, and it wasn't fear for his life, but for hers...for his pregnant lady." He smiled. "Has she made an honest man of him yet?"

Eames tried not to smile, and Gambisi nodded. "She has, or will soon."

"Soon, if he comes home," she admitted.

"He's a good father?"

"He's an excellent father. His daughter adores him."

"Well, then, we will have to see that he makes it home alive."

"Can you...help?" she asked, nearly choking on the last word.

"You are not a woman who asks for help often, especially from a man like me. Your partner is important to you."

"He's very important to me. He's like family."

"You must make a formidable team. He was able to maneuver my son Rico into a confession. Not many people who find themselves in his crosshairs get away with their crimes, do they?"

Eames shook her head. "No. He is unrelenting."

"Like a pit bull. I will have my men escort you back to your car. Thank you for coming to see me, detective."

"My partner?"

"I will see what I can do. You'll hear from me."

She hesitated, studying Gambisi's face. He was sincere. She allowed his wife to lead her from the room and an hour later, she was back at her car. She had mixed feelings about seeking help from a man like Gambisi, but she'd have gone to the devil himself if it would bring her partner home. She had no regrets about that.

It was late. She got into her car and drove home to shower off the filth of Carlo Gambisi and hold a good man in her arms.


	8. The Favor of Don Carlo

He was barely conscious, but he recognized the voice that spoke to him, coaxing him back to consciousness. His entire body hurt from beatings he barely remembered, and his head was spinning, but there was no fog of drugs muffling his brain. Just pain. A lot of pain. It hurt to move; it hurt to breathe.

More encouragement, gently rousing him. A warm moist cloth stroked his forehead, and a female voice spoke, warm as melted butter. He tried to move but his body would not cooperate. His mind shook itself from the darkness that had protected him from the pain, and he groaned softly.

"That's it, my boy. Wake up."

Slowly, he forced his eyes open, but his vision was blurry. He could not be seeing what he thought he was seeing. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. "Don...Carlo?"

"Welcome back."

"What...What did you do? You...your goons invaded...my home."

He was becoming agitated and breathing was more difficult. Gambisi rested a fatherly hand on his chest. "Not my men. Masucci men. They took you, and now I have you back."

"Masucci? Why?"

"That's not for you to worry with. Just rest. You will be home with your family very soon."

Bobby studied him, his eyes shifting to the woman seated beside him as she dabbed the corner of his mouth with a white cloth. He caught a flash of red as she folded it and touched his mouth again. He looked back at Don Carlo. "What did you do?"

"I saved your life, detective. Now rest."

His eyelids fluttered as he watched the don stand and walk toward the door. His wife held up the handkerchief to show him the fresh blood on it. He nodded. "He should be seen by a doctor. I'll make the arrangements."

He left the room as Bobby slipped back into unconsciousness.

* * *

Alex was flipping through a file folder on her desk when someone stopped beside her. She looked up at Edmonds. "What do you want?" she asked, her dislike of the man clearly evident.

"We need to talk."

"About what?"

"Come with me."

She followed him into Deakins' office. "What's this about?' she asked the captain.

"Goren turned up," Deakins answered.

Her eyes widened. "Where? When?"

"He was dropped off at St. Vincent's about two hours ago. He's in intensive care now. I've already called Barb and she's there."

Edmonds sat down and crossed his legs. "You met with Carlo Gambisi last week, Detective Eames."

"What makes you say that?"

He nodded at Deakins, who turned on the television. Security tape from the parking garage showed her being taken by Gambisi's men. "Fast forward three hours," Edmonds said. When the video resumed, he said, "There you are being returned to your car by the same men. Care to explain?"

"There's nothing to explain. What you see is what you see."

"Why did you go to see Gambisi?"

"I sent out a message that I wanted to see him and he responded."

"Why?"

She glared at Edmonds. "Because you weren't doing a damn thing to get my partner back. I would have gone to see Satan himself if it would get him back."

"We were doing what we could."

"Bullshit. So why is it, a week after I talked to Don Carlo, Goren turns up?"

"We want to know what you discussed with Gambisi."

"I discussed my partner. I mentioned that card you refused to think came from him—which it did, by the way. I told him I wanted my partner back."

"So Gambisi had him?"

"No. The Masuccis did. Gambisi apparently got him from them."

"That explains a lot."

"Like what?"

"Like why a Masucci capo who went missing three months ago suddenly showed up. Gambisi bartered for your partner's life, Eames. You know what that means? It means he owes his life to Don Carlo. That's no small debt. So Goren's on our radar, make no mistake, and so are you."

He rose from the chair, nodded to Deakins and left the office. Deakins leaned back and sighed. "Why, Alex?"

"Because he's my partner. Because he would do the same thing for me. And because I promised Barb we would get him home."

"Edmonds is right, you know. He owes his life to a Mafia don. That's not something Don Carlo will forget."

"Neither will I. I'm going to the hospital."

"Alex," he said gently. "This is serious."

"I'm very serious, captain. If I ruffled feathers because I did what they couldn't, well, that's too damn bad. I just wanted to get my partner home, and I did what I had to do to get him back."

Turning, she left the office. Deakins sighed again, then he picked up the phone, wondering how many favors it was going to take to get her out of this.

* * *

Alex stopped in the doorway of her partner's ICU room and watched as Barb adjusted the IV lines that snaked around the bed. The room was quiet except for the rasp of the respirator by the bed and the beeping of the heart monitor. "Barb?" she said softly.

Barb turned and looked at her for a moment before she crossed the room and hugged her. "He's back, Alex."

"I see," she answered, returning Barb's hug. "How is he?"

"He's in serious condition, and they're keeping a close eye on him. He has a lot of bruising. They worked him over pretty badly. He has bruises on bruises from many beatings."

Alex approached the bed, looking down at his battered face. Barb slipped her arm around Alex's shoulders, her hand resting on Bobby's leg. "He has blood in his lungs, and the respirator is taking some of the effort from his breathing so he can rest. His liver and spleen were bruised and so were his kidneys. He's got broken ribs and a crack in the crest of one of his hip bones. His kidney and liver functions are both elevated, so they're watching them closely. He's lost quite a bit of blood as well. Despite the bruises on his face, they spared his head. From what they can tell, he's suffered nothing more serious than a concussion."

Alex's expression was grim. "They wanted him to feel the pain, to know what was happening to him."

"He's sedated now, because of the breathing tube. He's lucky to be alive."

"You're very right, my dear," came a voice from the doorway.

The two women turned, and Alex said, "Don Carlo."

The don came into the room. "You must be Barbara. It is a pleasure to meet you." His gaze shifted to Alex. "Because you came to see me, Detective Eames, I did something I never do. I compromised."

"That Masucci capo?"

He nodded. "In exchange for his life."

"Why, Don Carlo? Certainly not just because I asked."

"Well, you did ask very sweetly." He smiled. "But no, not just because you asked. Because of you, Barbara."

Barb was puzzled. "I don't understand."

"I'm good at research," he said. "And I did some looking into your past. Your son Brian, you raised him alone after his father's death. That could not have been easy, especially after your own father's death. Now, you have baby Emily. It would be such a cruel twist of fate for you to have to raise that sweet little girl alone, and it was in my power to prevent that tragedy."

"So now he owes you," Alex said.

Gambisi shook his head. "No. He owes me nothing. I wish I had known sooner." He looked at Barb. "Consider his life a gift for you and your daughter."

Alex shook her head. "The organized crime unit will never buy it. He's a cop who has drawn the favor of a Mafia don. That doesn't look good for him at all."

"Don't worry. He will not suffer for his relationship with me."

Alex was uneasy. "It's a relationship now?"

Gambisi smiled. "'And the lion shall lie down with the lamb?'" He leaned forward and kissed Barb's cheek. "You will hear from me again," he promised.

Then he left the room. Alex was uncertain, her hand on her phone, until Barb said, "Let him go, Alex. He brought Bobby home."

Finally, Alex nodded. "That buys him a lot from me, but I'm still a cop, Barb, and I'm afraid this isn't going to go well for Bobby."

"Give him a chance to keep his word. Please."

"I'm not inclined to give a Mafia don many chances, but he's earned this one."

"Thank you."

Alex sighed heavily. "Will you call me when he's awake?"

"Of course."

"Is Emmy with her grandparents?"

Barb nodded. "She and Brian are both staying with Ray and Elsie."

"Call me if there's anything I can do. I'll stop by again tomorrow."

"You took a risk to get him back, didn't you?"

Alex shrugged. "It's okay. He would have done the same for me. We'll see how it plays out."

"I can't thank you enough."

She smiled. "You already have. Good night, Barb."

* * *

That night, laying in bed with Teddy, she confessed, "I got in bed with the devil, Teddy."

"Hey, I've been called a lot of things..."

She laughed. "No, not you. I went to see Don Carlo last week, to ask for his help in getting Bobby home."

"Well, he came through, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did. And I'll never regret what I did. But it's going to cost me. I don't know what yet, but I don't have any 'get out of jail free' cards left."

"Won't Deakins back you?"

"I don't know. He was kind of upset that I went behind his back on this. That's something Bobby would have done."

"But not you?"

"Not normally. But if I'd told him, he would have ordered me not to do it, and then Bobby would be dead."

He kissed the side of her head. "Don't worry about it, honey. There's nothing you can do about it now. You did what you had to do and that's all there is to it. You saved his life. If the brass can't appreciate that, well, then, screw 'em."

"You have such a way with words."

"I'm more of an action man."

"Oh, yeah? Prove it."

"Gladly," he answered, kissing her as he gently pushed her onto her back.

She surrendered to his gentle touch and he helped her forget her worries for a little while.

* * *

A week passed before the doctors began to wean Bobby from the respirator and let him wake up. Barb had split her days between the hospital and home, and she was tired. Ray had once again assumed Bobby's care, and he was with them when Bobby came off the respirator. He was beginning to waken when the tube was removed, and he coughed and gagged as he came around. It took time for him to finally settle, but when he heard movement in the room, he became agitated and on guard.

"Bobby, it's okay," Barb said softly. "Calm down."

Several minutes passed before he recognized her voice and finally began to relax. "Barb?" he said hoarsely, looking for her.

She grasped his hand as she moved into his line of vision. "I'm right here."

He reached up and caressed her cheek. "Barb," he said softly.

Ray stepped up to the other side of the bed. "You've been through quite an ordeal," he said.

"How...who...I'm alive?"

Barb smiled and lightly stroked his arm, which he obviously enjoyed. "Yes," she answered. "You're alive, thanks to Alex and Don Carlo."

"Don Carlo?"

"He's the one who got you away from the Masuccis."

"They...wanted information...I didn't have."

"And if you did have it?"

"It didn't matter. I was a dead man either way."

"Now, thanks to Don Carlo, you're home."

"I don't understand. Why?"

"Just rest for now. We'll talk about it later."

"Emmy...and Brian?"

"They're fine. Emmy's been looking for you, and so has Storm."

He smiled, but he was unable to stay awake any long. He squeezed her hand and closed his eyes.

* * *

He spent the next few days drifting in and out, unaware of the comings and goings of others. When he finally returned to full consciousness, he had only a few vague recollections of past conversations. No one was there when he woke up, so he pressed the call button for his nurse. Barb's friend Wendy came into the room. "Look at you," she said with a smile. "Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed."

"Black-eyed is more like it."

"Don't worry. By the time the wedding comes around, you'll be back to your handsome self."

He smiled a bashful smile. "I suppose. Has Barb been here?"

"Every day. She'll be by after lunch. Brian had a chemo treatment this morning. How do you feel?"

"I guess I'm okay. Sore as hell."

"Let me take a listen."

She listened to his lungs and checked his vitals. "Everything looks good," she assured him.

"How long have I been here?"

"About two and a half weeks."

"Do you know what happened?"

"I don't, except that you'd been beaten repeatedly and badly injured. But your friend Alex will be by later, too. She can probably tell you more. She usually comes by around lunchtime."

He nodded and looked around the room. "You wouldn't have anything to read, would you?"

With a smile, she walked to the television and opened a cabinet, returning to him with a couple of magazines and two books. "Barb left these for you."

He smiled. "Thanks."

"Just call if you need anything else. Lunch will be coming in about thirty minutes."

"Let me guess. Broth and jello."

"You know the drill."

"Unfortunately."

She left the room and he settled in the bed to read as he waited for someone to come by who could tell him what had happened to him


End file.
